Let's Play a Game

It's called: Who is the Most Wrong?

Have a bucket or something handy, then read this. Let me know when you recover.

Good? Great.

First of all: What. The. Heck. This can't be real. It just can't. I am not a man easily fazed, but... come on. Who does that? How? Why? You have to realize at some point: I'm boinking my grandmother. This is wrong. Everyone in the world will hate me. Right?

I love, LOVE the quotes about how they get harassed when they're out together in public. Gee, why could that be? The grandmother saying she feels sexually alive for the first time in years pretty much killed my sex drive.

So we have an inter-generational love connection. OK. Gross, unconscionable, but probably not the first time in the history of the world this has happened. But having a baby? How do you find a surrogate for this? How do you even come up with the idea? What do you say to the woman? “Hey, uh, gramma and I, we wanna have a kid, but seeing as her plumbing dried up years ago, we're gonna need some help.” And how do you AGREE to that? Really? You think that's a good idea? You're on board with this?

Have these people not read the considerable literature on the problems incest babies have? No. No, they have not, because that is something intelligent people do. Non-intelligent people have sex with their family and say it's OK because of some possibly made up “condition.”

There's gotta be an island somewhere we can send these three. We'll pick the child up in a few months.

So, Who is the Most Wrong? The geriatric siren? The 26-year-old that apparently needs to triple his age to get a date? The woman who decided she'd carry their baby? I know this: We all lose.